


Roll to Voicemail

by nialleritdidnthappen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Boys Kissing, M/M, Relationship(s), Romance, Sexy Times, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 11:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10489614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nialleritdidnthappen/pseuds/nialleritdidnthappen
Summary: “Or…” Harry repeated, leaning in and pressing his forehead against Niall’s, looking him straight in the eye, straight into the heart that he knew damn well he was driving absolutely wild, “you can stay right here… and let me do whatever I want with you… for the rest of the day… until you’re positively begging me for mercy.”





	

Niall couldn’t help but grin in spite of himself. Here he was, rambling on and on about how Harry needed to let him go, needed to let him up out of this bed, needed to let him get dressed and needed let him answer the goddamn phone, now on its thirteenth ring… and yet, he wasn’t doing a thing to fight Harry off. He sat there, back against the headboard, legs trapped under Harry’s straddle, feeble words getting lost between desperate kisses, helplessly resigned to the fact that Harry wasn’t letting him go anywhere. And if Niall was being honest, he didn’t want him to. 

The ringtone of Niall’s cell finally died down, only to start right back up again with it’s chipper melody and dull vibrations on the nightstand just feet away. Once again, Niall’s lips curled into a grin and his shoulders shook with laughter at the absurdity of this whole situation. They were supposed to be at Louis’ forty-five minutes ago, they’d had these plans for weeks, and the poor guy was ringing and ringing him, either worried sick-out-of-his-mind about them, or just incredibly keen on interrupting whatever naughty behavior he suspected they’d gotten up to. Most likely the latter, Niall decided. He made a quick reach for the phone, only to have his hand snatched up by Harry with his lightning reflexes, who brought it right back into the bed where it belonged. 

“Harry,” Niall chuckled into the kiss, “Harry, c’mon, that’s Tommo…” Niall mumbled, the last word dissolving into low moan as his bottom lip became a plaything for Harry’s teeth. “Harold, seriously, I’ve got to answer that, and we’ve got to go…” he drawled, his voice deep and gravelly with desire, while Harry responded with a simple grunt that sounded less like an invitation to keep talking and more like a command to shut up and kiss.

As if to reinforce his point, Harry moved his hands from where they were cupping Niall’s cheeks to press firmly against his bare shoulders, holding him in place as he pecked his way from Niall’s lips, across his jaw, and finally to his earlobe which he hungrily teased with his tongue, eliciting a quiet gasp from his willing victim. 

“Oh, he can wait a bit longer,” Harry finally muttered as he moved a hand to Niall’s neck, holding him firmer yet as he nuzzled up and down Niall’s ear, which was pink with the blush that had traveled from his warm, flushed cheeks.

“A bit longer?!” Niall said incredulously, his words shaken by a ridiculous giggle as Harry nibbled a ticklish spot on his neck. “We’re almost an hour late! He’s been ringing nonstop!” 

“Oh my god, Niall,” Harry sat back on Niall’s legs and threw his head back in exasperation, wearing that boyish grin that still made Niall just feel the tiniest bit weak in the knees. 

“Consider these two options carefully,” Harry said in a comically professional tone, leaning forward and placing his hands against Niall’s chest to push him flush against the headboard. Though Niall put on a cool, collected smirk as they playfully stared each other down, he knew from the cocky glint in Harry’s eye that the wild thrumming of his heart beneath Harry’s palm was betraying him. 

“You can push my naked arse off your lap and answer the phone, get a good ole scolding from good ole Tommo, and resign yourself to an afternoon of Xbox and beer and takeout and coaching Louis through his long, long list of lady problems and… well, that kind of male bonding. Or…” 

He dragged the tips of his fingers downward, trailing delicately over Niall’s stomach and stopping to tease him just where the bedsheets were preserving what little dignity he had left, eliciting a kind of desperate whimper from the back of Niall’s throat. 

“Or…” Harry repeated, leaning in and pressing his forehead against Niall’s, looking him straight in the eye, straight into the heart that he knew damn well he was driving absolutely wild, “you can stay right here… and let me do whatever I want with you… for the rest of the day… until you’re positively begging me for mercy.” 

Though he played coy every time, Niall was wrapped around Harry’s finger, putty in the palm of his hands, and he loved it. He loved belonging to someone, he loved to be controlled, and he was about to surrender himself to Harry’s any and every whim when the phone — which had gone quiet again — suddenly buzzed back to life. In one last little game of hard-to-get, Niall ducked out of Harry’s grasp and snatched the phone from the nightstand.

He gave Harry a mischievous eye, holding one finger in a threatening position to answer the call, and grinned wider when Harry’s jaw dropped a little and his eyes read, You wouldn’t. 

He let Harry sit in suspense just a few more painful seconds and then, without once looking away from Harry’s eyes, tossed the phone across the room, landing it with a dull thud on the carpet near the bedroom door. 

“All yours,” he smiled, and Harry’s laugh was so spirited, and his grin so wide, had Niall been standing, he absolutely would have gone weak in the knees.


End file.
